“I thought the birds got up at four!”
We were having one of those conversations sisters tend to have. It was early this morning. She had left a message yesterday that I hadn’t gotten until it was too late to return the call. You know by the tone of your sister’s voice when you have to call back as soon as you hear the message, or when it can wait until the next day. It is just the way it is with sisterhood. I knew I could wait until morning.
I dialed (I still do that), she answered, and so it began. It was okay that I hadn’t called the night before, she had gone to bed early, slept well for a while, until she awoke at 3 am, and couldn’t get back to sleep. “I thought the birds got up at four!” she said with righteous indignation. Maybe it was the relief that tests had come back normal, or my own long slumber that I was wishing I was enjoying. Could it be because I had just uploaded this picture of a feather I found the day before while walking the acreage looking for the newborn fawn we heard was around? Perhaps what I have been called is one with a wicked sense of humor was kicking in, but, no, not that. My sister and I share that gene. Maybe it was just the simplicity of the statement. The audacity that birds would be up and chirping at 3 am instead of 4 when she wanted to get back to sleep.
Have a good birthday tomorrow, Dottie. I’m still your big sister (“the big one”, said Ma) and I’ve got your back, as the saying goes, You can still make me laugh so hard at something so utterly absurd as birds chirping when you want to sleep that it makes my eyes water, my bladder jiggle and makes me feel a little younger again, for just a while.
Xronia polla, Tula, xronia polla!